Mr Wonderful
by fights
Summary: A chemical drug explosion causes some strange effects on Batman's mind. Secret Santa Fanfic Prompt #45 BatmanxJoker for BatmanxJoker LJ Community
1. Mr Wonderful 01

**Title:** Mr. Wonderful 1/2  
**Author/Artist:** Ol' Fighty (fights)  
**Fandom:** Nolanverse  
**Rating:** PG 15? I don't watch movies often.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Batman or even know who does. You would think I do though by looking at my computer contents. I do own a Batman figurine, it is my Christmas tree angel.  
**Warnings:** Buh? Gay people? Some BatmanxScarecrow, but mostly a BatmanxJoker Christmas.  
**Prompt:** 45. So, Bruce Wayne's never born. Straight up fanfiction about that, or it's straight on a Wonderful Life Remix with Bruce wishing for that, supernatural (comics' Spectre?) showing him what would happen if he had never been born. General effect on Gotham, but of course focus on how Joker's affected--or maybe he's not even the Joker; maybe he's just really lacking focus without a Batman.  
**Other:** Copy-pasta from BatmanxJoker LJ Community, written for greedyslayer's Secret Santa prompt. Posted on for more archival porpoises.

* * *

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_**Mr. Wonderful**_  
_1/2_

_-  
_

"Whaaaaaat are you doing heere?" The drawl was so lazy, sentence prolonged to the point that it almost didn't complete. The green haired man leered, elbow on the doorknob, slouching over the door frame with a duffel bag fastened over his shoulder. The bag was navy blue with a dollar sign scrawled on in permanent marker and was bulging and oddly bleeding red. His men chattered until they stepped into the room, assessing the scene before their boss had and freezing with fear.

The laboratory had spilled into the house area like technological vines taped to the wall, although there were still tennis ball thick tubes running from room to room pumping liquid and gas. The house was still furnished beautifully by it's previous (probably now dead/insane) owners. Despite being invaded, the room was remarkably meticulously clean. The deep mahogany brown and detailed interior design lying under tubes of bubbling water-like liquid, although in the drug kitchen of Jonathan Crane the "water" was probably undrinkable. Every surface area that was a table had a mini-series of drugs, the Joker's eyes moved to the closest one to a portrait of a French lady with pouffy white hair and a tight silken pink dress.

The painted smile curved, twitching with giggles.

Beneath the portrait Batman looked hunched over a figure, books scattered on the floor.

The Joker waved his hand lazily to acknowledge Batman's presence, then actually looked.

His eyes sucked in the visuals of the scandal.

The transpiring scene was so indecent it made the Joker's hair curl.

The—HIS Batman pushing the slim, unmasked Scarecrow against a lovely expensive wallpaper background like they were modeling for a magazine. The thieving Scarecrow coquettish eyelashes fluttered with thought, more beautiful than handsome, face was flushed red. Whispering something with those pouty lips, Batman's face was so close to the Scarecrow's, so in control of the smaller villains body it looked like they were going to dip into a sensuous kiss that would sear the inks of Gotham's tabloids with passionate fire.

"Ah, and you know here comes your nightmare now. Free of service." The brunette pursed his lips, teasingly. His own insanity was driven by curiously, much different than the Joker's.

Batman was oblivious to the Joker. Batman's grip on Jonathan Crane did not relent, although he did turn his head slightly. When he did a double take, the Joker had already begun to lapse into a violent fit.

It wasn't enough attention for the devilish entertainer who grit his teeth, Batman's slight making the Joker's face look even garish. The mixed expression of jealously, envy and loneliness.

"He's going to get angry," Jonathan let out a giggle, coquettish, too similar to the beautiful ballerina's and dancers Bruce Wayne had loved to affiliate with, "are you going to repress him too? I don't think he does that sort of thing."

"WHAT!" The purple suited madman shrieked, "You're not even going to say hello, HONEY!"

Batman's grip was becoming more difficult due to Crane's giggling and he wrapped his fingers around Jonathan's neck only for the Joker to growl in response.

"I work all day to bring home the money! Do what REALLY MAT-erreserrrserrs." The Joker's rigid, stalked like a an undead man's, hand twitching and wriggling like fresh worms. Teeth and throat gibbering more audibly than usual. The sound resembling more of an murderous turkey than a human, even if the human was the insane Joker.

Each stepped held and snagging on long cords, there was a pop of something catching on the Joker's midsection, a pulled tube that sent a gas filled tube spewing suddenly red mist into the air like a venom spitting snake. Spitefully, the Joker seemed to be pulling cords, knocking over beakers, haunted expression locked on his Batman. Already the burning could be seen filling the air, black smoke from another room. His hand reached to a corner of a table and knocked it to the side--chemicals burning one of his clown horribly--only to throw a voiceless tantrum when Batman didn't respond.

"Does he know or should I tell him?" The yank was fought with much protest, faces still a hair apart from Bat Marauder and broken psychiatrist.

The Joker strained to hear the effeminate Scarecrow's hushed secrets, neck bent and head snapping to every syllable.

"KNOW WHAT! What is this..." A bouncing of eyes, the affair still occurring, Crane still TOUCHING Batman, "—TO YOU!"

The Joker gave what started off angry and bled into a heart-wrenching wail. "BATMAN YOU PHILANDERER!!!"

He pressed his hands together like a diver and drove his praying hands between the Bat and the Scarecrow abdomen's, attempting to wedge the pair apart the same way an angry teenager would pry open the closing door of an elevator. The Joker shot Batman a dirty look, **"I'll make you wish you were never born!!" **

"AWAY!" He pushed the Scarecrow into a wall, sending more popped tubes of gas wildly flailing in the room pouring more gas into the room and unplugged cords of electricity.

Batman grabbed the Joker, who seemed to be slipping into catatonia, legs kicking, chortling when he broke more of Jonathan's things.

He tugged at the man's body, tossing another look at the scared clowns. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

The remaining clowns scattered, running down the stairs.

"Let him die," the Joker said before Batman thrust his head into a wall, knocking him out.

Batman turned and already Jonathan Crane's insanity was proving apparent as he swatted books aside, darting around the house trying to saving his research. Batman stumbled with the Joker under one arm into more of the black smoke, already in disarray from the chemicals burning smell. Batman's hand reached into more smoke grabbing the Jonathan as he pulled his Scarecrow mask over his face and dragging him over the mess the Joker left behind to a window.

He pulled the two men closer to his body and faced the window, preparing to leap out the window when he was hit by the explosion, chemicals and fire burning his back. His black arms instinctively wrapped around the two criminals as he tried to shelter the pair from the fall.

-

_"Sir?"_

_Batman pressed his hand against the man's shoulder, but the stranger only threw back an angry look and pressed forward._

_"Madam, excuse me." His gloves squeaked in his clenched fist, he turned and moved for yet another person._

_One man, burlier than the rest gave a sharp shove. "I don't care about what you're selling."_

_Batman shook his head after bouncing off the shop brick powerlessly. His head turned to look into the window, a sandwich shop, the customer's faces turned, ignoring him. He looked at the proud man stalking off and did a double take of his face in the window's reflection, catching the vision of his face covered in a cowl._

_His face fell._

The Joker awoke blinking at the building in flames and smiled at the friendly looking fire as he lay under the falling snow. Batman's head trauma's never kept him down for long. He tried to push the heavy arm around him to the side, the arm locked on like dead weight. The body was warm, but smelt burnt.

It was Batman, the Joker frantically shook the man awaking the other Gotham villain. The masked scarecrow rose and pulled his research book from his jacket and smiled, putting it back in it's pocket. Happy for his ideas to still be safe.

The sound police sirens rang followed shortly by two fire trucks.

"Boss," the cries of the remaining clowns that ambled to free their boss from the Batman paused as the Joker struggled to pull the lifeless hero up as he stood.

_The ice rattled in it's short glass, rolling tan colours around the frozen cubes._

_"Rachel Dawes?" The older gentleman drawled while wiping a glass dry, "married Mr. Harvey Dent and left Gotham for Metropolois. Everyone seems to be leaving these days, I'll be leaving myself in several days. There's no point in staying around if leave, but the looks of that situation I suppose leaving Gotham is not an option."_

_He smiled, the only facial expression he had left due to his disguise._

_"That suit must be hot. What did you say you were again?"_

_The vigilante mused and then responded, "A Bat."_

_Batman stared into his glass in disbelief, Rachel marrying Harvey Dent._

_"We'll be closing soon. Due to those low lives, small businesses like mine have to cut our hours." Batman reached for his stash, there would probably be just enough money for a drink and a bus ride when the bartender retrieved his ice water filled glass. "Drinks are on me, you look like you are in dire need of a stiff drink." The old bartender looked at his old establishment wistfully, "I'm closing this shop down anyway."_

_Batman nodded, pushing his stool away so he could stand. "Thank you."_

_"Have a happy holiday, Mr. Bat..." The old, white haired man struggled, "man."_

_"Merry Christmas, Alfred."_

_-  
_

Jonathan Crane carefully stepped over another one of the Joker's dead henchman who had managed to crawl away before dying. The distance from the Joker and the fact that the clown had still been alive for a while was enough for Jonathan to know that the Joker was easing up on his killing. The men were so heavy in death that even if the effeminate man wished to move them he was unable to. Their deaths were unnecessary, but the Joker seemed to quiet down with just some of his frustration quelled. The rest was spent in caring for someone without any past experience for caring for people, which had drained the clown as usual learning experiences tended to tire people out fast.

Jonathan stood at a safe distance which was easy to guess because the dead hench-clown's marked the radius where it was a bad idea to go. So far, the radius was a pretty perfect circle around the makeshift bed that Batman had been laying in for a couple of days. This was more interesting than the half-finished experiment (which exploded) that had caused Batman's (possibly chemical induced) coma or Batman being in a coma.

Forget the sleeping vigilante, the Joker was far more interesting.

Green hair limp over his eyes, the Joker leaned over, rag trailing over the black cowl as if it were the Batman's bare forehead. There was no point telling the madman, the odd clown had been in and out of Arkham enough to be certifiable deemed mad by any toddler—Still, his behaviour was...

The Joker himself was pretty much a wet dream for former psychiatrist, Jonathan Crane, as the man had stepped beyond fear and into insanity. The unmasked Scarecrow ran his tongue over his lips, as the Joker's face flickered with emotions rapidly while hovering over Batman. The psychiatrist had only left Joker's side to return his study only to discreetly write down his findings and then hurriedly back to the room of corpses to continue his observation.

The Joker had always been secretive and elusive. His contact card bare, no address, number or message. Always at arms length. Quick, precise and direct despite his mad motions and wild tangents, the man was always concise. The phone had been ringing for the clown, only for the Joker to answer with threats and anger.

The psychiatrist's mind had toyed with the idea of killing Batman when the Joker had left the room, just to see how much deeper the Clown would fall into catatonia. Already the Joker had enough proof he would kill anyone who came to close the the defenceless Batman. His attempts to revive the fallen hero was frantic and was amusing, but still it had been a day and a half and Jonathan was twitching to toss a catalyst in order to cull more information about the Joker.

"We'll have to take the suit off—"

"—No." The man's face cast down, looking over Batman's "face." The Joker's breath hitched as Batman stirred, a rare sign of life, fingers trailing over his chest.

-

_There were no people on the streets, Gotham was deserted, even the homeless found some pigeon hole to hide._

_This wasn't the Gotham he knew, this wasn't Batman's Gotham. From what he gathered, the Wayne's never had a son and had been childless at the time of their murder. Finances and riches scattered like glass and lost to the world._

_Batman pulled his knees closer, December was so cold._

_A man lowered before him, he pulled at the black suited man to his feet. "Are you okay?"_

_Batman looked down and murmured a reply of yes._

_"You look cold," the man smiled, his green eyes dancing. Batman looked into the life in the green eyes and closed his own, head pressing into the stranger's shoulder._

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Note:  
I was writing this fanfic and I ended up splitting it into two parts, just so I can get half of it out now and the other half (hopefully) on or before Christmas. I have another Secret Santa fic that should be done today or in three days. :3 I was trying to keep the reason for Batman to be in a coma "logical," thus a chemical induced-hallucination + coma from saving two of Gotham's criminals.

The title comes from the song, Mr Wonderful by Shiina Ringo because I wanted to have Wonderful in the title because it is somewhat based off of "A Wonderful Life" that I watched briefly as a child. _"Mr. Wonderful, that's you."_


	2. Mr Wonderful 02

**Title:** Mr. Wonderful 2/2**  
Author/Artist:** Ol' Fighty (fights)**  
Fandom:** BB/TDK, NolanVerse**  
Rating:** PG 15? I don't watch movies often.**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own Batman and if I did, he would kiss all the boys and make them cry.**  
Warnings:** Mumumhu. Some JokerxScarecrow kissing. Mostly Batman/Joker and Joker/Batman-ness. Involuntary cross-dressing. Possible goldfish abuse.**  
Prompt:** 45. So, Bruce Wayne's never born. Straight up fanfiction about that, or it's straight on a Wonderful Life Remix with Bruce wishing for that, supernatural (comics' Spectre?) showing him what would happen if he had never been born. General effect on Gotham, but of course focus on how Joker's affected--or maybe he's not even the Joker; maybe he's just really lacking focus without a Batman.**  
Other:** Copy-pasta from BatmanxJoker LJ Community, written for greedyslayer's Secret Santa prompt. Posted on for more archival porpoises.

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**Mr. Wonderful**  
2/2

-

_The arm swung over that his body was alarming, as was the response. "You were cold."_

_"Do you always take strange men home?" The giggling man rolled closer and laughed, strange breath curling in Batman's nostrils._

_"Nuope, you looked like you were about to drop dead anyway." The man paused, "and you did."_

_The costumed man rose at a slight angle, elbows propping himself up. Batman's eyes floated to all the pictures featured. Interest catching a smiling young man and a aged tutor, white bird resting on his curled fingers. Cards spread out in a frozen game of solitaire and short gloves, folded, resting in an antique chair, looking out of place in the dingy bachelor apartment. Everything seemed to mismatch, bright clothing looking dull in the winter light, spread out over top his own body, the floor and the a couch that had been possessed by too many owners and a ghost or two._

_Batman turned his head to the left and was taken aback by the ancient birdcage, long empty. Sad._

_Who was this man, a magician. The way he rose from the bed with a hum, it seemed like it._

_The mysterious man swung his feet off the bed, kicking on a pair of mismatched slippers, one was a dog, the other a cat._

_Then Batman's eyes widened._

_The gentleman was completely naked and fumbling for a pair of red boxers._

_The blonde man paused and smiled, making Batman tense a bit more._

_"Oh, I didn't do anything to you. I just like sleeping in the starkers and all." The man's body was so pale and white, beaming vibrations of light against the dark, depression of his bedroom. A stark contrast._

_The man laughed at his guest surprise, foot slipping into a leg, followed by the other until he hoisted the underwear to his hips. "You've been out for three days so far."_

_"Three days," Batman parroted with a blank expression._

_The man reached over to the night-stand, fingers dancing over the selection of pills and drugs, cognac and alcohol. He lifted a glass off a bible that had been used as a coaster too many times and grabbed a black coated bottle. "You like whisky? Scotch? Bourbon?"_

_"?" Batman looked at the window. It looked dark, the familiar purple coloured curtains gave nothing away._

_"Shit, I never gave you my name." He pressed a glass into Batman's gloved hand and poured a tan substance into the cup._

_"My name is really long and convoluted and hard to remember..." The man searched in his mind, tugging at his blonde curls, "uhhhhh... Just call me J, the letter or bird."_

_"J," Batman felt his heart ache for a moment, before downing the glass of pure alcohol._

-

The room was stale, but no one dared to crack a window in fear of making Batman sicker.

The Joker remained curled up close to Batman's body, his form keeping Batman warm. Every now and then he would poke his head out from under the sheet to stare at the door or his bed-mate and then return to sleep in ten to fifteen minute intervals. The Joker never slept more than 40 minutes at a time, not that he could stay still long enough—Which is probably why he looked so ghastly without his make-up, his normal face was more grotesque with self-induced sleep depravation.

There was a series of giggles, Batman probably had done something funny. Fart again? How the Joker regaled him with that tale, elaborating on how it probably gave him an extra boost whenever Batman did a large jump. Batman didn't seem the kind to fart, sneeze or cough. Maybe the man under the mask would, the one that Joker seemed to convince himself didn't exist. Like a monster under the bed.

The Joker was close, growing closer to the masked man. Babbling nonsense to the vigilante as if he were a child, filling him with stories that were impossible, unreal. Not that it made a difference to the clown, Batman was a man of few words and rarely spoke back anyway.

Jonathan Crane watched pensively.

First he had wanted the Joker to touch Batman, to further his findings on how the mad man's relationship would develop. He had been quite careful with Batman, careful to do the right thing to Batman, say the right thing to Batman. Only the Joker was allowed to be mean to Batman, three clown's died finding out—a note that Jonathon took down with great detail. The Batman was a catalyst to the Joker's mood swings, instrumental to binding him to the simple act of caring. Caring when before he was content to push his nemesis out a building to see Batman's cape billow.

Jonathan rescinded back to his makeshift study, the washroom. Disgusted in his own jealousy coiling like a snake around it's prey, he felt like a teenage girl would want her crush to stop looking at the most beautiful girl in school. Like, like, like. "All this talking about liking," creaked Jonathan's voice.

His gloved hand had touched Batman's face three times today, aside from medical care and moving the man to change his bed pan.

The Joker touched Batman far too much. Jonathan clamped his book shut and hit it in his jacket, but it wasn't like the Joker didn't notice. Nothing got past that man.

He returned to the doorway carefully, there were no markers in this building to tell if too close was too close. The decay of the old building was probably not helping Batman's recovery, but this place was equally abandoned.

The Joker was dressed, but oddly enough the man had never undressed once, even after soaking up so much of Batman's blood. He was moving around busily, recovered. Returned to his own boisterous form, bullying a poor spider plant by splashing it with water. He turned in a way to Crane, with a smile as if to say, "join in."

He set the glass down on the table and moved towards the injured hero.

"Come help me," the Joker said, his hand had pausing over Batman's "heart" and then slipping down to pull down the sheet.

When had he disarmed the black armour, it looked like it was disassembled mostly.

"Are you just going to stand there," Crane moved stiffly, feeling the same call of madness that probably lead most of the Joker's followers to their demise. The Joker cracked the armour open, giggling, "it's just like opening a lobster! 'Cept I don't have any of those fancy crushy thingys."

The Joker bent over the still form of Batman and cooed, "who's my King Crab? That's you!"

One by one, the armour of the legs, arms popped open. The chest had been damaged and discarded, only a terrible wrap of now clean bandages. It took many times for the Joker to get it even close to a proper bandage but it was the thought that counted. Still, Crane's eyes caught the mask.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" Joker's voice caused Jonathan's body to seize, there was no stab. Perhaps the Joker was feeling better... Or getting worse.

A hard grab, and Batman's face was pressed against the Joker's chest.

He couldn't help but over-analyze it, and the Joker could see his face. Drink every feeling from Crane's mind and body in a second.

"You're looking at us again," the Joker said with gusto and then his face wrenched into a mad smile. "Or maybe it's you, who wants me to psycho-anaylze you?"

-

_"I cook, I sew, I tell jokes." The blonde haired man laughed at his own predicament, "being a man who does everything, it's easy to find a job in this depression. I hope you like purple. I gotta work with what I have."_

_Batman made no response, he watched as the man's magical hands sketched an outfit for him between sips of cognac._

_"Anywho, you notice how people keep disappearing off the streets? People are saying they're doing some messed up experiments on them down at the factory near Arkham Asylum—place fucking creeps me out. That's why I had to snatch you off the streets... Some of my friends went poof and you know..." The man sipped his cognac as Batman remembered the man's wall, there were a lot of people on his wall._

_"All those people are gone, I thought I was a magician." He looked down at his sketch and back up at his companion with an impish smile. "You know you kinda look like a cat with those pointy ears. You're not much of a talker—but you're interesting company. That's for sure."_

_There was a stomp and the struggle before a slamming door, the mousey looking man shuffled his bags that hung from his hands. His moustache seemed to sweep his mouth with the shuffling._

_"Oh, Mr. Gordon."_

_"What did I tell you about drinking in public, my son looks up to you." The policeman looked up at the dark, costumed man. "Woah, weird get up."_

_"I found him like this," Jay smirked. "Not my prank, but the person who pulled it on him is hella weird."_

_The policeman surveyed the masked stranger the same way one would appraise a new neighbour, "I don't know anyone who would walk around wearing that during the day, let alone night, and there have been a lot of crazies."_

_J eyed the tired policeman with a concerned expression. "You okay, Mr. G?"_

_"Gosh, I hate it when you call me that. Makes me sound a billion years old," Gorden waved his hand, "it's that factory—"_

_"Near Arkham?" J chimed._

_"It's spewing more smoke than usual, it's like a bad omen." The police officer shook his finger, "you be careful on the streets, even during the day, they're getting wily. Hey what's that?"_

_"A new outfit for the new man in my life," Jay nudged his elbow into Batman's stomach with a wink. He handed the drawing over to the police officer with a bounce in his pass._

_Gordon set his groceries down and looked down the sheet in his hand. "That's your curtains—I can tell, that shade of purple is..."_

_"And that is the material I got for less than a dollar a meter." It was a weird hexagonal pattern. Very chic, but odd._

_The figure looked like J, only the body was larger and oddly shaped. Either way Mr. J was a childish artist._

_"I like it," Batman said, giving his head an odd shake. _

-

When the Scarecrow made his scrambled return to the apartment, the Joker was gone.

Batman was gone, his armour was gone and for some reason, all the goldfish in the fish tank were gone.

"At least the Joker is feeling better," Jonathan moved to gather all of his belongings: a comb. He had brought so little to the relationship, drugs destroyed, men scattered, the Joker had probably neglected to kill him for being useless. His body sighed into a slump, "I should go."

Talking to no one.

Crazy really did rub off.

It was his apartment. His being the Joker, and everything reminded him of the Joker. Like a bad boyfriend. Perhaps the Joker's mad tendencies rubbed off on him, Jonathan really wanted to see the room burn down.

He returned to the washroom that had become his mind's sanctuary away from the Joker and looked at the mirror and his lips, smeared with red lipstick.

Kind of made him feel sexy.

His shirt so ruffled, face flushed with more than cold.

Still.

It still didn't change the fact that the Joker had used him.

It got him nowhere closer to his goal, even that, his goal had been forgotten. He had forgotten what he was doing or saying. The Joker had eaten his brain pretty badly, and it would take some recovery. Better to check himself into Arkham, it would take a while to feel like "the Scarecrow" again.

And he liked it.

He liked it too much.

The Joker never got his drug, but there was no reason to make something that would never be perfect.

No one could be like the Joker, there was only one Joker. He knew with one kiss.

That kiss had been a one time thing, that would never escalate because of Batman.

Four days of thunder. Courtesy of the Joker.

He found himself in front of the door.

"Time to go," Jonathan said aloud.

He resisted, not wanting to leave behind the feeling...

And left.

In good time as the rooms exploded behind the other side of the door.

He looked at the door, smoke billowing from the creases.

He shook his head with a smile and walked away. Still holding the chocolates that the Joker had wanted him to buy.

The man had a weird way of giving gifts.

-

_"Sir, I don't even know your name, but," the black man huffed from over exertion, bracing the door to stand, "they got J. People said they saw him being taken away when he was buying buttons for you. What should we do?"_

_Batman rose to his feet, "I should save him."_

_"Save him," the landlord gave the dark suited man a strange look, "how are YOU going to save him."_

_Batman responded without thinking, "by wearing a disguise."_

_The man shook his head at the already insane looking man's idiocy. "But how are you going to do it? There are too many corrupt cops and criminals in that building."_

_"I'll beat them all up," Batman's eyes narrowed, he reached for the table and grabbed a picture of J standing alone as if someone had taken the picture of him, for him. "I'll look for him. I'll bring him back. I'll stop this. Gotham will never be safe until I do."_

_"You're serious..." Lucius said, watching as the figure ran down the hallway of peeling paint._

_The door closed, the last signs of the hero dashing away. "Good luck, son."_

_-  
_

"We sure grew old together, didn't we." The young woman turned to see the old couple amble down the street. The older man had a scarf wrapped around his face, his warm eyes gazing down to wife's. Her curly red hair, spectacles barely visible between the wrapped scarf and her old lady hat. She sat still in the wheel chair and the man pushed her along the street with care in the snowy weather, despite carrying a large duffel bag of items.

Her ears opened up to the conversation, it was nice to see old love. Love that endured through the long and tough times, especially in Gotham.

"When you chased me down the streets of Gotham," the man said warmly, "I loved that you know."

The man stopped and adjusted his black hat, almost white blonde curly hair bouncing.

The woman went on her way, down the street. There were things, small things, that made the holiday's special.

She kept a mental note to share with her mother the story of the old couple that she saw on her way back from the park.

She sighed, if only she could find a nice gentleman to grow old with and love forever too. Gotham was full of criminals, you could barely date outside the mob.

-

_There were screams, screams upon screams upon screams. The sound was just of screams, disorienting the bat-man from any logical progression._

_"J!" Batman called out, but the screams were louder than him. "JAY!"_

_He looked every where, the walls and whiteness was blinding. A pierce of a siren blared, like a door opening. Light so bright that he couldn't see, but the floor was so bloody, if one could call it a floor. It was more of a grate that let the blood drain away. He moved in desperation, silvery copper air choking his lungs._

_The door swung open at the end off the hall, Batman watched as a handsome man exited the room wiping something red onto something brown._

_The familiar man smiled and dashed past him, giggling. Hands pressing burlap to his lips._

_Batman's eyes widened and went for the room._

_"J?" He called out, more desperately than he ever had in his entire life. "Jay?"_

_The room looked like a vomit of colours, like someone had devoured a young rainbow and vomited the colours up into bile._

_"Hello."_

_Batman jumped._

_Jay's face was still raw with blood pouring down the sides of his face, "why-so-serious."_

_Bruce screamed inside of Batman._

_The joker only laughed as a clown would, his face splotchy with unfinished face paint. "Ha ha ha."_

_"J." Batman voice ached, reaching out afraid. Confused by his own actions, his own humanity._

_"Shh, shh, shh, shh. No crying."_

_"Jay."_

_"Having a bad dream, this isn't your world, Bat's. This is a really bad dream," his fingers caressed Batman's face, like a lover._

_"A dream." Batman said._

_"Yes." Mr. Jay nodded. "This isn't real. Well, it's a mix of reality and dream, you can try to guess what is the truth but..."_

_There was a long pause._

_"You'll probably have a hard time believing."_

_"Why are you helping me?" Batman asked._

_"Why did you save me?" The man laughed, a bit of the man who had lain beside him, wrapping his feet around Batman's legs was still there. "If you had remained at that apartment there would have been no Joker._

_"There is a me because there is a you." The Joker motioned in that familiar gesture. "I need you to come back to me, Batman. You complete me." _

-

His eyes shot open, hand pressing weakly against the hard chest.

It was cold outside his arms that wrapped around his sore body, he hissed to see the smoky breath trail from his lips.

"Shh," and then wide green eyes looked down at Batman's disguised face. "Did you you hear me?"

Batman's confused, tired eyes trying to focus on the bare face of his saviour. "Who are you?"

"J..." The man croaked, "the letter or the bird."

Dumbly, Batman adjusted the spectacles on his face. Still addled, but no longer comatose, by the drugs.

Something in the man trembled, body trying to pull away but returning as if magnetized, like opposite forces. Batman... Bruce pushed closer to the man, he was too warm. The warmest, closest thing right now. And he was cold.

"You feeling better?" The Joker looked up at the sky as if waiting for something.

"Yes..."

Batman pulled on the blanket, tightening around his fist. J leaned closer as the space around them lessened.

The pop of firecrackers in the distance, a spiral of light into the sky exploded.

Batman looked around him, J pressed a hand on the hat and red wig on Batman's pointy "ears" afraid it would fall.

The police looked at each other confused

"I made a star for you," J said, "you should make a wish."

"Stay." Batman commanded, "until I fall asleep."

The disguised, older gentleman pointed at a huge bursting firecracker. "That's mine."

"That's my star..." His eyes looked down at the Dark Knight that struggled with sleep. "That's my star."

J stayed, mesmerized that the city and Batman were watching his fireworks.

He stayed until Batman closed his eyes.

And when he did, he looked like an old lady who had drifted off in his sleep.

Harmless and powerless.

"I need you," Batman mumbled in his sleep. Something he said often in his sleep deliriously.

"You complete me." The Joker replied on a turn of his heel as he parted.

His wish had come true.

"Merry Christmas, Bats. Merry Christmas."

* * *

******_Merry Christmas, Joker._**

* * *

Note:  
The dream sequences were inspired by Jacob's Ladder and Silent Hill, thus the constant drinking and haziness. The ultra creep factor in the factory freaked me out writing it. This fanfic is REALLY weird. I tried to keep it as "realistic" as possible... It's really sombre. ALSO. 2/4 prompts are DONNNEE! I have two arts left, the 2nd will update on Christmas and the last after.

What the Joker wished for, is it obviouuusss? Obvious? Maybe. Oh Batsy. You're just tired and cold. *hugs*

LOL At the end of this fanfic, "Wind beneath my Wings" by Bette Midler started playing! Followed by a "Kiss to build a Dream on" by Louis Armstrong. And then finally by "When I fall in love," by Nat King Cole. T_T

I hoped you all liked it! *cheers*


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